Hardest of Hearts
by EnchanteMoron
Summary: Dean has recently finished a job in Oregon while Sam is helping Bobby with a job of their own. In the dead of night, Castiel appears to him in need of minor medical attention.


"Hello, Dean."

The low, rasping growl that was Castiel's voice brought Dean out of dreamland and back to the small motel. He blinked his eyes a few times and winced over at the small clock sitting on the nightstand.

"Jesus, Cas, it's four in the morning, I just went to bed an hour—"

The sound of Castiel tumbling to the floor derailed Dean's irritation, and he immediately threw the covers off of himself and jumped to the angel's aid.

"Cas! Cas! You okay? Come on talk to me buddy."

"I'm okay, really. I'm fine." The angel murmured in a voice that was neither okay nor fine.

"Are you injured? What happened dude?"

"Yes—no. A little bit. I'm, mostly tired. I walked here. Help me up."

"You walked here?" Dean asked, helping his friend up and onto the bed.

Castiel leaned against the wall and nodded a few times, breathing in and out slowly.

"Where from?"

"Montana."

"_You walked from Montana to Oregon?"_

"Yes, Dean. I think I know that." He growled.

Dean didn't bother clarifying the question, but rather shook his head and pressed on. "Here's a question, _why _did you walk from Montana to Oregon."

He hesitated, chewing on the admittance before actually saying it. "I'm injured. I need your help, Dean."

"Injured? Can't you just pop yourself back good as new?"

"It's not that simple. My vessel is in tact, it's…it's something else."

Dean waited for him to name the injury, but Castiel quietly averted his gaze. "Do you want to tell me what it is? I can't do much if you don't give me an idea of what to do, here."

Castiel sighed and stared rather pointedly at the wall. "It's…my wing."

Dean stared at him for a minute. "Your…wing." He repeated. Castiel gave a small nod, and Dean just continued staring at him.

He knew Cas had wings, obviously, but he never considered them something tangible and _there,_ much less susceptible to injury.

But, his friend needed him. With a curt nod, Dean leaned over the bed and pulled his first aid kit out of his pack. He set the kit on the bed and looked at Cas. "Alright. Tell me what to do."  
Cas looked back at him now. His mouth twitched up in a way that Dean thought he might smile, but instead he merely nodded. "Well, I have to make them manifest, first." He said, and set to removing his trench coat. "Scaled down, of course. I can suit them to my vessel."

Dean nodded. "Right." He watched as Castiel removed his tie and shirt in turn and asked, "Why is it you have to take your shirt off for this?"

"Manifesting an angel's wings means suturing them to the physical body of my vessel, and I don't want to tear my clothes."

He nodded again and chose not to pursue the explanation of how his wings normally functioned, instead reaching over and turning on the bedside lamp.

"Dean." Said Cas, when he pulled off his shirt. "I need you turn around."

Dean laughed. "Aw, come on, Cas, don't be shy. You have a nice body."

Cas gave him a look that was equal parts confused and flustered. "No, I just—"

"Kidding. Just say when." Dean laughed and turned away.

For a minute or so there was silence, and for a moment Dean considered asking if everything was okay, but just as he opened his mouth to speak, Castiel let out a deep, pained groan.

The sound of bones cracking and clicking, coupled with the anguished moans from Cas, made Dean increasingly uncomfortable, and he was suddenly thankful that Cas had asked him to turn away. He could only imagine the sight of full-on _wings_ growing out of a man's back.

After a few minutes the hideous cracking and creaking stopped, and Castiel's groans were reduced to tired gasps, and eventually, he rasped out a simple, "Okay."

Tentatively, Dean turned around, and the sight of Castiel's wings literally took his breath away.

Colossal things that _dwarfed_ Castiel's vessel in such a way he imagined even Sam would look tiny beside them. The carpal joint, or 'wrist' of the wing arched far over Castiel's head, with the manus pulled in tight, resting against the edge of the bed. To say that they were impressive would be an incredible understatement. But the thing that struck Dean more than anything was not the size of the wings.

"They're…brown." He said.

Castiel looked away and then back to Dean. "Yes." He said simply. "What were you expecting?"

"Well, white, I guess?" He said.

Castiel smiled at him a bit. "There aren't that many birds with white wings."  
"What?"

Castiel sighed. "The birds of Earth are my Father's tribute to his angels. There exists a species of bird to match every angel's wings."

"Oh." Said Dean. "So all the angels have different wings?"

"Yes."

"Huh."

Dean stared at the wings a moment longer. Brown wasn't the best description, really. They were more of a soft tan color for the most part. On the secondary coverts he noticed flecks of dark brown spots, a bit like freckles, and the tips of the outmost primaries dipped a cream off-white. It stuck him how very Earthy his wings were, and he found himself liking them more than the picturesque white angel wings.

"What bird are you?" He asked.

"What?"

"I mean, what kind of bird has your wings?"

Castiel shook his head slightly and smiled in a way that seemed kind of sad. "Mourning doves." He said. "Mourning doves have my wings. Named for their call, which sounds vaguely like they are crying." He shook his head a bit. "I never cared for the impression until recently. I suppose my Father always knew what it would come down to for me."

Dean winced a bit at the comment. He couldn't think of a single comforting thing to say, so instead he opened up the kit and turned to his friend. "So what's the problem with your wing?"

Slowly, and with a pained grimace, Castiel unfurled his right wing a bit. To the middle right of the inside of his wing, just below the ulna, was the injury. It was hard to tell exactly what has happened, but Dean's bet was some kind of blade wound. The feathers around the injury were stiff and scruffed up, and much of the area was caked with the brownish crimson color of dried blood.

"Okay." Said Dean to himself, he turned on the bed to face to wing and gave Cas a glance. "I need you to extend it for me."

Castiel didn't look at him or say anything, but a tense muscle in his jaw was twitching. It was clear to Dean that wing-related injures must suck a whole lot. Despite the inevitable pain the angel must have been in though, he slowly extended the wing out enough for Dean to get a good look at the wound.

It struck him again just how utterly _massive_ they were. The one wing alone, not even fully stretch reached from the corner of his bed to the center of the empty twin opposite his own. He imagined the full wingspan from tip to tip couldn't be under _at least_ twenty feet.

But now was not the time to gander at the sight. With a small pair of scissors he set to work cutting the stiff feathers away to get a look at the cut, prompting a small frown from Cas, who seemed to want to protest, but knew he oughtn't. It occurred to Dean that wings were probably a great source of pride for angels.

"I'm only cutting away the ones I need to." He said, hoping to comfort his friend.

Castiel nodded and stared away. "Do whatever you need to." He said.

After clearing away the feathers, Dean began inspecting the injury. It was a large, deep wound, cut in a diagonal falling away from Castiel's center.

"Give me a minute." Said Dean, getting up. He pulled a small dish from his kit and walked into the bathroom, throwing on the sink. As he waited for the water to warm up, he considered the injury. He knew he needed to disinfect the wound, but given how tender his wings were, wanted to avoid stitches if he could.

He slipped the bowl under the faucet and filled it halfway with warm water, then grabbed two small plastic cups off the sink. There was also the matter of bandaging him up. How do you even bandage a wing?

He pulled the small desk table toward the side of the bed and set the bowl and kit on it. From the kit he pulled out hydrogen peroxide and betadine and poured a bit of each into one of the cups, and then filled it the rest of the way up with water.

"What's that for?" Castiel asked.

"Cleaning out the wound." Said Dean, reaching to the bedside floor for something.

"And the other cup?"

Dean pulled up a half-empty bottle of whiskey and poured it into the remaining empty cup. "That one's for you."

Cas gave a low snort of a laugh and took the drink with a small "Thanks."

Dean reached out with his left hand and spread the remaining bits of feathers away he could have a better look. With his right, he grabbed the damp cloth and pressed it into the open wound.

"Augh!" Cas let out a growling cry and doubled over, instinctively curling his wing in, and suddenly Dean was surrounded by soft tan feathers.

He could tell how much pain Cas was in, but cleaning the wound was important, and he couldn't baby him about it. "Cas!" He barked, grabbing his Manus with his left hand firmly and pushing it out a bit. "I know it sucks but we've got to clean it out, man."

"Sorry. Sorry." Cas grumbled.

Dean released his wing and Cas tentatively opened it up again. When Dean pressed the disinfectant into the wound again, Cas sucked in a breath and his wing twitched in a bit, but he managed to keep mostly in place for the remainder of the cleaning.

Finally, when he was finished, Dean pulled away and let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding in. "Okay, done."

"Mercifully" Cas growled, pulling his wing in a bit again, so that feathers arced in a sort of half-circle that rested against Dean's back. The sensation of the soft feathers against his neck alarmed him and he stood up without meaning to.

"I'm, uh, I'm going to wash my hands." He said, and proceeded to the bathroom, shaking his head microscopically at himself.

"Are we done?" Asked Castiel.

"No," Dean called from the small bathroom. "but the good news is you don't need stitches." He turned off the faucet and shook the water off instead of reaching for a towel and reentered the main room. "I don't have a clue how to go about bandaging you up though."

Castiel nodded and let out a long sigh before closing his eyes. He straightened his wing a bit, and then flattened it in a way that all the feathers smoothed into an outward direction. "Does that help any?" He asked.

Dean nodded. "Actually, yeah. But I'm going to have to put it in some kind of splint to keep you from undoing it. Any way you can set it to your chest?"

Castiel nodded back in return. "Yes."

"Alright then."

Dean sat back down on the bed and pulled out a roll of gauze tape from the kit. It took a minute to configure himself in such a way that he could wrap the gauze around the wing, and wound up sitting on his knees a bit closer to Castiel's human bits than he had counted on. After a dozen or so wraps of the gauze, to where the wound was sufficiently covered, he reached for the beige medical tape and repeated the awkward over-and-under procedure.

When the gauze was held firmly in place, he tore the end of the tape and stepped back. "How does that feel?" He asked.

Castiel moved the wing a bit to test. "Stiff, but worlds better." He said. "You mentioned needing to secure it to my side?"

Dean nodded, and Castiel stood and pulled the wing in tight to his side, trembling slightly as he did so.

Dean approached the angel and gave him a once-over, trying to figure the best way to go about securing the wing. He figured going under his right arm and over his left shoulder a few times, and then horizontally across his upper chest would do the trick, but feared the left wing might get in the way. "Cas, turn around for me."

The angel obliged and, with a small clearing of his throat, Dean inspected his back.

The set of the wings did provide a bit of a challenge. The "shoulder" joint, where the wing was hinged to his body, sat just below his shoulders, and the wing's path fell downward until the "elbow" joint, where it bent up to meet the carpal "wrist". He'd be able to get the bandage around the shoulders fine, but going over his chest and upper back wouldn't be possible with the joints in place.

"Cas?"

"Yes?"

"If I were to bandage across here, would that be okay?" He asked, touching just below the shoulder joint of the wing.

Cas hesitated a moment, thinking, Dean supposed, and then said yes.

Dean circled about around to Cas's front and started pulling on the end of the medical tape. When he got the edge of it off the roll, he looked up at Cas and paused.

Cas was staring at him quietly, and something about his gaze held Dean in place, as it often had before. His eyes wandered around and he became aware of how oddly nervous he was about the whole scenario, though what exactly was making him uncomfortable he couldn't put his finger on.

It wasn't often that Cas needed caring for, so he supposed that had something to do with it, but in his gut he knew that that wasn't all that was bothering him.

His gaze shifted from Castiel's eyes, to his injured wing, to his healthy wing, to his chest, to anywhere that was_ not_ his chest (which happened to be the lamp).

"Is something wrong?" Cas asked, concern ebbing into his voice.

Dean shook his head and looked back at him. "No, no, it's fine. Just thinking." He said, pulling the on the medical tape. He held the end up to his collarbone. "Can you hold this in place for me?"

"Yes." Cas took the end and held it against his chest.

Dean pulled the tape up and over Castiel's left shoulder, bringing it across his back, carefully avoiding the wings' shoulder joints, around the injured wing, and back around to his collar. He did this as many times as he needed, careful to keep the pressure evenly distributed over Cas's shoulder. When the wing was held mostly in place, he stepped back.

"How's that?"

Cas rolled his shoulders a bit and gave a nod of approval.

"Good. Almost done." He pulled the edge up again and pressed it against Castiel's side, winding the tape around his back, just under the shoulder joint, over the wing, and back to the front. And around and around he went, with Cas standing rigidly with his right arm raised and Dean circling him with medical tape like he was decorating a Christmas tree.

But finally, he was finished. "Snug?" He asked.

Cas moved his injured wing a bit, gently testing the makeshift splint. Mercifully, it kept in place.

Dean let out a sigh equal parts relief and sheer exhaustion. "Awesome." He said to himself, and then grabbed the water off of the table.

"Let me help." Said Cas, reaching for the plastic cups.

"Don't worry about it man." Dean called over his shoulder as he poured the remaining water down the sink. Cas came up behind him and reached across to pour out the peroxide-betadine concoction in as well. Dean noted inwardly the poor demonstration of personal space, but he was too tired to bother scolding the angel.

Cas went to fetch the medical supplies but Dean caught his shoulder. "Dude, I said don't worry about it. I'm pretty sure healing is supposed to be your top priority right now."

Castiel looked mildly defeated, but he relinquished the medial tape all the same and sat down on the bed. "I may have bled on your sheets a little." He observed apologetically.

"Wouldn't be the first time." Dean droned, putting the various pieces of the first aid kit back together and slipping it inside his pack.

"Dean." Cas said, his voice hesitant.

Dean stopped and turned toward him, rubbing his eyes. "Yeah, Cas?"

"Would it be alright if I…stayed with you, for a little while?" He asked, sounding almost nervous.

"What, like, with me _here_?"

"Yes, I…" He trailed off a bit, nodding to his wing. "I'm not exactly _mobile_."

Dean ran a finger through his hair. "Yeah, and I guess you can't exactly go waltzing around town looking like you're straight out of _X-Men_."

"I don't understand that reference."

Dean let out a tired, but genuine, laugh. "Don't worry about it. Yeah, you can stay. Any idea how long it will take you to heal up?"

"It shouldn't be any longer than a few weeks."

"A week with Castiel. Fantastic."

Cas tilted his head at Dean in the particular way he had and scowled slightly. "You're being facetious?" He said, and Dean felt a small pang of guilt.

"No, Cas. It's fine, I'm sorry. Just really tired."

"If it's a problem for you—" Cas started, standing up.

Before he could finish Dean reached out and grabbed his arm. "It's really fine, I promise. I'm sorry, man." He said.

Cas stared at him for a minute and again Dean felt hypnotically frozen in place. He felt an unnamable anxiousness well up inside of him, and tore his eyes away, where they fell upon the bandaged wing.

He hadn't asked about the wound, and didn't intend to, but he assumed it must have come from another angel. He considered everything that Cas had sacrificed for him and Sam, considered how broken he must feel, having to battle his own brothers and sisters. He considered how many times Cas had come and helped when they called on him, and how often he had risked his life for them, for humans in general. And now he was injured and asking to stay with Dean. How could he even consider turning him away?

"Dean?" Castiel said in a soft voice, when there had been a lasting silence.

Dean met his eyes again and gave a small, soft smile. "Stay. It's fine." He said. It occurred to him that he was still touching Castiel's arm

"Thank you." Cas said.

"Don't mention it."

The mysterious anxiousness bubbled up inside himself and he pulled his hand away from Castiel's arm, looking at the angel's good wing to distract himself. "They're really impressive." He said in a somewhat shaky voice.

"Thank you. They're something more of a sight in my true from, but I am glad you like them."

"Yeah." He reached out with two of his fingers and pressed them against the feathers of his good wing delicately, stroking them in a downward motion. The feathers were soft and smooth, and he swore he noticed Castiel's shoulders relax the tiniest bit in response to his touch.

He chanced a look at the angel and found that Castiel had closed his eyes. Dean moved in a bit and caressed the inner feathers with the back of his hand, smiling a little despite himself. He was still anxious and unsettled, but it didn't feel like a bad kind of anxiety.

Castiel smiled softly to himself and opened his eyes. He reached out and set a hand on Dean's shoulder, and Dean met his eyes.

For a moment, the two stood there silently, staring at one-another, Dean's hand pressed against his wing. He turned his hand and pressed his palm against the feathers, curling his fingers in a bit. A part of him wanted to grab them, but wasn't sure how strong they were. Castiel's hand on his shoulder gripped ever so slightly tighter in response. Dean's heart was racing. He closed his hand into a gentle fist around the feathers and Castiel squeezed his shoulder. When Dean opened his mouth to speak, Castiel leaned forward and kissed him.

Dean's body went rigid, his left hand immediately reaching up to catch Castiel's side, and his grip on the feather loosened with his surprise.

In an instant, Cas seemed to realize what he had done and pulled away from Dean, eyes wide and jaw set.

"I…I'm sorry." He said, practically stumbling over his own words.

Dean couldn't think of an appropriate response. He couldn't think of any response. In that moment, he couldn't think of a single actual word. It felt as though that anxious bubble inside of him had finally burst and, to his surprise, he enjoyed it.

Meanwhile, Castiel was still fumbling to stagger into some kind of explanation.

"I didn't mean to—"

Dean grabbed Castiel's neck with his right hand and pulled him back into another kiss. There would be a time for words and explanations, but now was not that time. Castiel flinched in surprise but quickly melted into Dean's embrace, sliding his right arm over Dean's shoulder and hooking his waist with his left. His free wing beat and fluttered a little, and Dean smiled into their kiss at the image.

He turned Cas around a little and backed up toward the bed so he would land on his back, mindful of Castiel's injured wing.

The two tumbled over and onto the relatively stiff mattress in a clumsy mess of arms and kisses and one fluttering angel wing.

When they were properly situated with Dean's head resting on the pillows, he pulled away from Castiel's kiss—much to his dismay—and pulled his grey T-shirt up and over his head, tossing it to the side. Castiel paused, glancing over his chest for a second, and then returned to Dean's mouth, letting his torso rest against his partner's.

Their movements slowed from feverish to sensual, but not an ounce of the mildly aggressive passion was spared.

Castiel pulled his wing in and over them, creating a sort of half-dome over the two, that he imagined would have been a full dome if not for the injured half.

Dean brought his hand down along Castiel's stomach and curled his fingers into the edge of his pants' lining, and at once Cas pulled away again, his left wing stretching out behind him as though frightened away.

Dean pulled both of his hands away from Castiel, afraid he may have gone too far. "You okay?"

"Yes—I." Cas stared at him, looking nervous and hyper. "I'm sorry Dean, I don't…I've never…I don't know how to…"

The words weren't coming out in order but Dean understood. He put his hands on Castiel's shoulder and smiled. "Don't sweat it." He said simply.

Castiel smiled back at him and slowly fell back into his arms.

The sun would rise soon, and it wouldn't be until well after noon that the two moved from each-other's arms.  
The hours spent in bed together never escalated to Dean's desired sexual intimacy, but that was okay. He had no desire to rush Castiel and for that matter he didn't know the first thing about being with a man.  
As he lay in bed with Castiel resting upon his chest, stroking the feathers of his wings absentmindedly, it occurred to Dean that he probably should feel some amount of shame or alarm in his undeniable attraction to another man, but the truth was, for whatever reason, it didn't bother him. It was _Cas_. It just felt _right_. There was no denying if he had his pick of a man or a woman he'd take the woman, but that was merely the general rule, and Castiel the exception. The reality of Castiel's male vessel didn't occur to him really, because in the end it didn't matter to him.  
He was in love with Castiel.


End file.
